


we wish you a merry christmas

by Tood Bootsman (KittooningMalijah)



Series: 25 days of ficmas 2k17 [2]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Fluff, I hate myself, M/M, also i think i'm sick bc i never write soft, ficmas 2k17, this is the softest thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittooningMalijah/pseuds/Tood%20Bootsman
Summary: When things calm down after a case, maybe settling into their lives could be put on pause for the sake of the holiday season.





	1. i'm dreaming of a white christmas

          Tina had the stool out by the door to evidence, standing on her toes to reach the hook in place over the doorway. The outside of the station had already been decorated with lights and wreaths and garlands, and she’d placed herself in charge of decorating  _indoors_. The mistletoe would never get put up, otherwise.

          She was fully aware that Farah would rather they do actual police work, and that she and Hobbs were more invested in preparing for the guests they would have when the holidays  _really_  started. But with no new cases to solve or crimes to investigate, she was  _bored_ , and that meant more decorating.

          Besides the mistletoe, there was a wreath hanging in each cell, strings of popcorn over the front door, a string of lights around Hobbs’ desk... and, most importantly, a small, silvery tree on the end table next to the couch in the lounge. Despite how much she’d been told  _not_ to do, she’d gotten a lot done in just a few hours. 

          It took two tries to get down without tipping over the stool she’d been using to give herself an extra foot of height, but she did make it safely back to the floor just as the door swung open. There was a long beat of silence while Farah looked around the entryway, the dusting of snow in her hair already starting to melt by the time she actually spoke up. “What did you do to this place? Tina, I know this is a much better option than sleeping all day, but  _really_? Couldn’t you have... at least, I don’t know,  _cleaned_ a little bit?”

          Tina fought the urge to roll her eyes, sitting down on the stool while she all but pouted. She  _could_  have cleaned up, but that wouldn’t have accomplished  _anything_  - at least, this way, things would be a little  _festive w_ hen everyone started arriving in the next few weeks. “Farah, Farah, Farah,  _chill_. Everything is  _fine_. Take it easy. We still have plenty of time to get everything cleaned up.”

          “Everyone starts getting here  _next week_ , Tina. I know, it looks good, but what else has gotten done? Dirk and Todd still don’t have a place to stay when they’re here, Panto and Silas are going to be just fine, I’m sure, but what if I don’t make enough food? How much to Wendimorians eat? Oh,  _god_ , forget Panto and Silas, what about  _Ke_ -?”

          “ _Farah_! This  _isn’t_ chill - just  _breathe_. We figured out everything  _ages_  ago, remember? Besides, you should be focusing on something else.” With a small grin, Tina lifted a hand to point at the leaves hanging in the doorway over her head. “Look - you caught me under the  _mistletoe_.”

          Letting out a sigh, Farah willed her shoulders to relax while she stepped over to where the stool was, narrowing her eyes at the deputy perched upon it. She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to a softer cheek and trying desperately not to smile. “You’re the worst girlfriend ever.”


	2. do they know it's christmas?

          What the people of Bergsberg, in Dirk Gently’s world, called  _Christmas_  was very different from the winter festivals that Panto was used to. For one thing, he and Silas had been almost immediately employed to help carry a tree  _indoors_.  _It’s tradition,_  was the only explanation he’d received from the sheriff, and he was almost afraid to ask for further detail.

          The traditions of his winter festivals were very different from how he was going to spend this year. He’d already been told that there would be no grand dance before the start of festivities, he could eat the snow but only if it was actively falling from the sky, the lights around the station and Sheriff Hobbs’ home were only there because they were  _fun_. A part of him was beginning to wonder why his world made no sense to them when their world was the ridiculous one. None of their  _traditions_ followed any sort of logic. For the most part, all he had was complaints.

          The tree was an eyesore when placed in the middle of an otherwise well-decorated living room.

          He knew very little about electricity, but he knew enough to know that the lights on it were a fire hazard.

          Every single song that played from the radio in the corner only made his ears ring.

          Time was being wasted on decorating that could be used for actual productive activities.

          There were very few things that he actually liked about the other world’s traditions, and those were the mistletoe and the baking. He was able to kiss Silas as much as he wanted in Wendimoor, now that the war between their families was over, but there was a whole different feeling that came with kissing him for another world’s silly tradition. It made him feel weightless, like the pressures of their lives had never existed at all, like this world was theirs. like the only thing that mattered was  _them_.

          Baking, on the other hand, had a much more selfish reason behind it.If he helped when it came to baking, he got to sneak bites of cookie dough when Tina wasn’t looking.  _And_ , he was ready to claim one of the fresh out of the oven cookies for himself until his hand got swatted away from the tray

          “What are you doing? Those are for  _Santa_!”

          The words made him blink, openly confused by her words. Unless he was forgetting someone, and he liked to believe he had a better memory than that, none of their new friends when by a name like  _Santa_. “Excuse me? Miss Tevetino, I believe you are mistaken.” Panto shook his head, confusion clear in his frown while he tried to figure out what she could possibly mean.

          Tina’s response was a scoff as if his reaction was far from reasonable. “We aren’t baking cookies for  _us_. We’re baking them so that we can leave them out for Santa Claus. It’s  _tradition_.”

          Oh, wonderful. More Bersgerg traditions.

          “But...” He let his voice trail off, trying to find the best way to ask the question he so desperately wanted to. There was too much about this world that he still didn’t understand. “Why would I bake for someone I’ve never met before? Are they not capable of baking cookies for themself?”

          She scoffed again, shaking her head and starting to transfer the cookies from the tray to a festive plate. Apparently, even Tina Tevetino could make a sound that was enough for him to step back. “No one  _knows_  Santa, Panto. He travels around the world every Christmas Eve and delivers presents to all the children. The least we can do is give him a little fuel for his trip. I always leave him some napkins, too, in case he gets any crumbs in his beard.” The look on his face must have conveyed his confusion because it was enough to prompt further explanation. “He uses his magic sleigh and flying reindeer to deliver presents around the world. It’s like,  _most of Christmas_ , nowadays, him giving everyone gifts.”

          It took only a moment for Panto himself to scoff, quickly shaking his head with a frown. “So, a magic man breaks into everyone’s homes every single year and you just...  _let him_? What if he’s evil, like the Mage? What if he decides he wants to use his magic to kill you all, instead?”

          Tina laughed at the words, shaking her head with an amused grin. “Santa Claus isn’t  _real_. He’s just a story we tell kids to make them more excited about the holidays. Really, it’s the parents who get the gifts. They give Santa all the credit.”

          Just as she’d finished speaking, Silas stepped into the kitchen and took a cookie from the plate. He took a bite from the sweetened baked good while looking between them. “What are you guys talking about?”

          Panto scoffed again, gesturing toward his boyfriend with a frown. “Why does he get a cookie but I don’t?”

          There was a moment of relative quiet while Silas stuffed the rest of the cookie into his mouth and the deputy next to him was the one to speak up. “What cookie?”


End file.
